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A Prelude of Storms

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Once upon a time there was a rather
unique place called Ralian, and it was a land filled to the brim with magic and
creatures beyond your wildest imagination. Despite having no ruling families or
martial law, the varied inhabitants managed to remain in relative peace for
thousands of years never knowing of the terrors of war and the approaching
disaster that they would soon faceÖ Remember these words well, anything that is
beautiful casts a mirrored shadow just as large, for this is the truth behind
Ralian as well as any other worlds out there. The only hope for their peaceful
world to survive rested on a young man named Shar, a man who would one day go
on to defeat the greatest evil ever known.

This
simple synopsis taken from the back of a trilogy called theStorm Within series has been ingrained in my mind since
birth. The books were written by some author who nobody had ever heard of. I donít recall ever seeing or hearing of anyone else even
mentioning it, yet my father had been obsessed with them until the day that he
died. He used to read to me even before I was born, and so often after that I
slowly developed my own obsession with them as well. He was always convinced that
one day I was going to be special, supposedly thatís why he named me Shar after
the main character the series was based on. I had so many dreams as a child of
travelling to Ralian and going on dozens of adventures with my namesake that I
probably annoyed a lot of people Ė every picture I drew as a child was of
Ralian and it was nearly all I would talk about. Thanks to my father pushing
his obsession onto me, it was kind of my entire world until I was seven, but
eventually reality has to set in for us all.

I
learned the difference between the beautiful world of fiction and how cruel
reality could be one miserable winter day, when we were in the car driving home
from Winter Jam 2000. It had been a pretty nasty season, and we were just hit
my a fairly large blizzard the night before. My mom and dad were arguing about
something as he drove down the main road in our city when he hit a patch of
black ice and lost control. We slid into the side of a bridge and flipped over,
crashing into the icy river below. I donít really remember much after we hit
the water, but somehow, I managed to get free and swim to the river bank where
I was found by a passing couple. They called the police, and the man even
attempted to save my parents, but he was too late. I may have only been seven,
but it was at that moment I gave up on fantasy and accepted the world for what
it was.

I
was put in the foster care system a few days later, but I was never one of the
lucky kids who found the perfect home and got adopted. No, I bounced around
between homes for a while before they finally gave up and just stuck me in a
group home. I met my best friend, Ashe, in the home when we were ten. The times
we were together were probably the few happy moments of my childhood. I had
always been in love with her, pretty much since the moment we met, but she
never looked at me as more than a friend, and eventually more of a brother
since I had to rescue her more often than not.

We
managed to stick together until we finally aged out of the system at eighteen.
She went right off to working anywhere that would hire her and I went off to
community college to learn how to be an accountant. It probably sounds like a
strange career choice, but I just wanted something simple and dependable where
I had a desk and an office that was just mine. I caught a break when I
graduated at twenty and got hired right away to the central office of a bank.
Iíve worked here for five years now, and I barely talk to Ashe anymore. Thatís
where my story starts, sitting at my desk in my comfy office, staring at a
spreadsheet and daydreaming that there was more to life.